Cat and KittensA Series of Related Drabbles
by 1Bluefur
Summary: A series of related drabbles, nuff said.
1. Enter The Victim

**Enter the Victim**

Click, click, click, stop, wait, and shuffle. Click, click, click, stop, wait, and shuffle. Pacing, stopping, and turning. Pacing, stopping, and turning. Janice shivered in the damp darkness, not because of the chill that seemed to blanket the room, but out of fear.

Any second _he_ could come down, _he_ could finish what _he_ started. Another shiver, another click, another pause, everything about _him_ screamed creepy. From his untidy, navy blue hued hair to his sharp, steel toed boots. His brown orbs, cold and hard, surrounded by rings of black from obvious sleep deprivation.

Janice wished more than anything she hadn't said that stupid thing to him, wished she'd kept her mouth shut. But wishing won't bring her back to that moment; she'd called him a skinny little fucker.

Yes, she and her friend Beth, he'd walked past them while they stood and chatted. Beth nudged her, mischief dancing in her blue eyes. The brunette followed her friends gaze to… to_ him_ and that's when she said it. "Wow what a skinny little fucker!"

They'd laughed and turned, side by side, walking the other way. That's when it happened, Janice felt a claw-like hand grab her by the head, she screamed, so did Beth. Before she could get more than a seconds worth of the sound out, she and Beth were thrown brutally into a nearby alley.

Janice hit the ground hard, face first, judging by the pain she had a scraped cheek. She raise her head to see _him_ crouched over Beth, who'd struck the metal dumpster. She rose shakily, but froze in horror as _he_ lifted her friend by her platinum blonde hair. Beth's neck stuck out at on odd angle, broken.

_He_ dropped Beth and looked over at her. A cruel smile slowly wound its way upon _his_ face. "Don't you dare try to run."

Janice started to scream again, and turned to run, but she never took a step before _he_ got her. Then, all she could see was blackness; her last conscious thought before she awoke in her prison was _'So this is what it's like to die'_.

Janice suddenly realized that the footsteps upstairs stopped, cue paranoia. Where is he? Where is he? Where am _I_?


	2. HATE Is Such A Strong Word

**HATE Is Such A Strong Word**

When? Why? How? Where? A series of questions, the simplest of questions, and Johnny C. finds he is only able to answer one. Where did his sickness start? Here is where it started. At this house, in this godforsaken city. As for the other questions, he has but only small clues, guesses.

When did his sickness start? Probably when he moved in, not that he could remember.

Why did his sickness start? Perhaps because of his role as a waste lock, not that he's sure that whole Heaven to Hell trip happened.

How did his sickness start? This one he had no clues for, none at all. Sometimes he wonders if the how started before the rest, way back.

He let out a sigh and stopped pacing, this was no use. Aside from getting nowhere fast he'd completely forgotten why he came down in the first place. He lifted his head and gazed around the room, various devices, tools and weapons lay scattered about. He lingered for a minute, before beginning the ascension to his house above.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached the door to the main level. He gripped the cold knob, and turned it, putting pressure as he turned the knob he slowly opened the bare wooden door. It gave a lone squeaky groan as it opened, swinging on very rusty hinges.

He then turned and shut the door behind him, much faster than he opened it. He'd closed the door to the sights and smells of human pain, life and death.

He then turned, and headed to his bedroom, which could hardly be called so considering it contained no bed to speak of. Instead, it contained several boxes full of various weaponry, torture device parts, and Christmas decorations (which Johnny could not remember where or when he got them).

There was also a dresser, a once handsome shiny oak dresser adorned with a mirror. Now it stands in very poor condition against the wall, mirror shattered and wood stained with blood and grit. Blood, Johnny's own blood, from his body, twice stained the wooden dresser on two different occasions for two different reasons.

The first reason was when he was on a date with, _her_, Devi, possibly the only ever human he could remember feeling connected to aside from that nice… what was his name again? Oh well, he's dead now anyways.

He remembers the night he went out with Devi very well. Then _they_ got him, the Doughboys, the voices, got into his head. He remembers leaning in to kiss her, and then suddenly finding himself in the bedroom.

He remembers conversing with the Doughboys, D-Boy screaming that there was no stars, no moon, no happiness and Eff telling him that he must capture his happiness, freeze it in time so that it'll never escape.

He remembers Devi coming in, wondering what was going on, him talking, talking about her, killing her. But only a certain sequence of words burn clearly in Johnny's mind _**"I'm immortalizing the moment" **_

His memory then blurs slightly, he remembers lunging at her, two knifes in hand. A kick to the chest, hitting the wall, pain, being grabbed, being thrown, **CRACK**, cue more pain, darkness. He'd awoken much later, a hammer pounding on his head, and blood, his own blood.

The second time that dresser was tainted with blood was when he'd killed him, yes, killed himself. He was certain it happened, as he worked to recall the night his eyes turned to the nightstand where his old, yellowed, bloodstained phone sat. Come to think of it, there's hardly anything in the room that wasn't blood stained.

The nightstand he assumed had come with the dresser, with one drawer. It still matched perfectly with the dresser, dirty with grit and blood. It, the dresser, and the table across the room remained the only pieces of furniture in the room.

Then, Johnny remembers the night, almost crystal clear, much clearer than the night with Devi. But like a H.D T.V relying on a dish signal, there were parts that were missing.

He remembers sitting in a chair, no longer present in the room, talking once again with the Doughboys. Telling them he is ending his life, to end his slavery to them and their master, the thing behind the wall.

Skip to a few minutes ahead of time, he shows them the device he'd built, also no longer present in the room (or the house for that matter). It was a clever contraption, a gun attached to a motion sensor and the phone. When the phone rang, or when Johnny picked it up, the gun went off.

He remembers D-Boy telling him that it was stupid, that nobody called him, which is why he would fail. No sooner had the Styrofoam demon spoken, the phone rang. **RIIIIIIING, RIIIING**, curiosity, cautiously picking up the phone, the device had apparently failed.

……

……

"_**Hello?"**_

**Zzzzzzz**

**BANG**

**IEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**

The memory fades, Johnny finds he is sitting next to an upside down box, on top of that box, stood a plastic Bubs Burger Boy toy. The toy was actually another head voice, just had Psycho-Doughboy and Mr. Fuck had been. Johnny didn't trust Reverend MEAT, the burger boy, he didn't trust him.

"_**Those memories are strong Johnny, and so are the emotions attached to them"**_

Johnny scowled at the permanently smiling toy, but said nothing.

"_**But they are such bad ones Johnny, so why do you linger upon them?"**_

Johnny looked away from the plastic thing. The burger boy had a point "I suppose I don't want to lose sight of my past, because after all this time, years perhaps, I still don't have the answers I want. Yet I wouldn't need to look for them if I could remember the answers to the questions in the first place"

"_**You need to move on Johnny! Forget those stupid questions, look at is as an opportunity to start anew! Come on, you should go out and hit the town, have a little fun, feel **_**good**_** for once"**_

Johnny's gaze returned to MEAT, the scowl back on his face. "I don't seek to _feel,_ Meat!" he snapped, "I don't want to feel anything, but it seems no matter how hard I try I can't shed any of it". His arms settled back into his lap, funny, he didn't remember moving them at all.

The smile on Reverend MEAT seemed to widen.

"_**But why shed all when you could just shed the bad emotions? Keep the good"**_

Johnny's scowl turned into a frown. "Because there is no good without bad" he said, knowing it was truly that simple.

"_**Come on Johnny, we know feeling good is worth the price. The joy, the excitement, the thrills, the HAPPINESS"**_

"ENOUGH!"

Johnny was now on his feet, face contorted with anger. "First of all, _I_ control me! Not you! So I don't have to listen to any of this at all! Secondly, all good emotions come to an end, and then you feel empty and alone, sick once more, it's not worth the effort anyhow. Besides, what do you know? You're just a voice inside my head! You should only know what I can know unless you're like the Doughboys!"

Reverend MEAT remained silent while Johnny stood, staring at him. Finally, he spoke, the words formed in Johnny's head, arranging into one simple sentence.

"_**But you are listening to me"**_

Johnny froze, all words of retort seemed distant in his mind, and finally, Johnny managed out three words.

"I hate you"

"_**Hate is such a strong word Johnny"**_


End file.
